Dragonblade
by LachieOfChorrol
Summary: The story is about a Nord, constantly being pursued by a strange group of assassins when he seeks help from a friend. But far more sinister things are at play and it's up to Liric Dragonblade to save Cyrodiil. Please Review :
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer! All characters, lore, spells, geography and beasts are owned by Bethesda apart from those I created myself.**_

Chapter 1

The Khajiit dodged Liric's blade by nimbly darting to the side. Expecting a retaliation, Liric quickly brought his sword back into ready position and held it there. He quickly brushed his black hair from his green eyes, their piercing gaze never leaving the stalking cat. They circled each other, Liric's slim yet strong build against the Khajiit's agile body. His Breton blade pulsed softly with magic, slightly distracting his opponent. Seeing the gap he needed, Liric swiftly struck again. The Khajiit knocked the blade aside with its steel mace and swung at his head. Liric dropped to the ground and rolled away, coming to his feet in a smooth motion. The Khajiits mouth twisted into a grotesque grin.

"You're almost as fast as me, Nord," it growled to him.

"That's not too hard, pussycat."

His retort enraged the Khajiit into a frenzied attack. Its mace came from all directions as it rushed at Liric. Laughing, he easily parried and deflected its wild swings with his enchanted sword. The Khajiits face was twisted into a mask of hatred, its eyes glaring at him.

_Oh no,_ thought Liric, _his eyes. _

Liric felt his muscles seize as the Khajiits Eye of Feartook hold of him. In their depths, he saw his own savage death; being torn to pieces while he was still screaming. All he wanted to do was flee, to put as much distance between him and this horror as he could.

Suddenly a wealth of images flooded his mind. He saw his upbringing, the harsh life of the hardy nords. He saw his father and mother's faces. He saw their faces as the daedric blades plunged into their chests. In the depths of his mind he screamed, screamed for revenge.

At his side, his sword exploded into light. The fear left him and he let loose with a savage attack. Unlike the Khajiits rage, his sword strokes fell more accurately, the rage being replaced by a cold determination. In a desperate defense, the cat raised its mace to ward off Liric's next attack. Blood matted its tawny fur, originating from dozens on wounds and its eyes took on a wild, cornered look. Without hesitation, Liric slashed its mace hand off.

The Khajiit screamed and yowled as more blood gushed. It stuck the stump of its arm into its fur. Liric watched coldly as his opponent dropped to its knees before him. After a while, its screams softened into whimpers and it managed to rasp, "W-Who are you to defeat-t me? Who are you… to match the speed of a Khajiit? Who are you to o-overcome my Eye of Fear? Who are you?"

"Liric Dragonblade."

The Khajiits eyes widened in recognition. Its eyes darted to Liric's sword, the light that had filled it dimming before its keen eyes.

"A worthy opponent, then," it sighed before it slumped to the ground, dead. Killed by loss of blood.

Liric studied the assassin's corpse for a few moments before turning away, deep in thought. This was a highly skilled assassin. There were few people who had the money to hire such skills and of that select group, only a couple wanted Liric dead. That left two people. The first was a skooma dealer by the name of Weebam-Tal, an Argonian. The second was a noble in Chorrol. Liric had never discovered his name. He had been attacked by an assassin such as this one a few years ago. The only thing the assassin carried had been a note and 200 septims. The note had the assassins orders neatly written on it and at some point it had been named. Where the name had once been, had been charred by fire. All Liric had been able to make out were the words, 'Chorrol.'

Clearing his head of thoughts, Liric rolled the corpse over and grimly shifted through the pockets of its leather jerkin. It was a grisly business but it was necessary. He found a handful of septims, a bottle of skooma and a half-chewed hunk of bread.

"So he was a skooma addict?" mused Liric out loud, pocketing the septims, "That would suggest Weebam-Tal. But Khajiits and Argonians hate each other. I can't imagine one working for the other, even if it was professional. And he doesn't look like Dark Brotherhood material. If he were, I would probably be dead."

His looting done, Liric pulled the body off the road and into the bushes. _No point in worrying the guard, _he thought. He took a deep breath and checked his surroundings. They seemed unfamiliar after the fight. Rolling hills spread out in all directions covered in lush grass and dotted with tall evergreens. In the far distance, the mountains of the Colovian Highlands could be seen, blue from the shadow. Large boulders and shrubs lined the road.

_I should be somewhere between the Gold Coast and the West Weald, _he thought to himself, _Couldn't hurt to check though._

He pulled his map of Cyrodiil from his pack and laid it out on the road. From his surroundings and the details on his map, he placed himself nearly at Skingrad, heading along the Gold Road from Kvatch.

_Kvatch._

The very name brought back a flood of memories. Due to the recent Oblivion crisis, Kvatch had been utterly destroyed. The survivors had been rebuilding for the past four years and were only halfway through the arduous task. He had briefly visited and stayed at the newly built inn, _The Savage Minotaur._

Shaking his head, he stood, squared his shoulders and continued on along the Gold Road.

The West Weald Inn had a clean and healthy atmosphere. Boisterous groups of people chattered with tankards of ale and mead held in their hands, roaring with laughter and mirth. A group of minstrels played well-known songs of the time and had half the customers singing along with them. Serving girls moved back and forth handing grog out by the bucketload.

Liric sat alone at a table in the corner humming along to each tune, nursing a tankard of mead, paid for by the coins he had found on the assassin's body. His foot tapped in time to the beat, sometimes jingling coins in his purse. He had always like Skingrad, despite the narrow streets. It had an air to it that somehow managed to cheer him greatly. He no longer thought of his encounter earlier, he simply allowed himself to enjoy the night.

The patrons paid him no mind as they mingled with each other, their voices getting louder as they downed more and more grog. The atmosphere started to become strained and awkward and numerous shouting matches broke out.

_Ah, that time already? _thought Liric as he watched the minstrels hastily retire to their homes, _Best get up to my room before the fights break out._

He pushed himself to his feet and started off towards the stairs. The sound of heavy blows sounded behind him and numerous crashes could be heard. A large press of people started in the centre, all shouting and cheering as two men laid into each other with their fists. The door banged open to admit three guards just as Liric slipped upstairs. The guards proceeded to break up the fight and turned the patrons out into the street. In all the mayhem, no one noticed a lone figure silently follow Liric upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Liric's room was small and simple but he liked it like that. In one corner sat the bed, neatly made and waiting for him to sleep in it. In the other, a table was laden his meal; a healthy serving of meat and vegetables. Smiling to himself, he hungrily tucked into the meal. Once he was finished, he sat back in his chair and relaxed. The sound downstairs had softened immensely and all was peace and quiet. Until his door creaked open.

Liric threw himself from his chair just as a crossbow bolt slammed into the wall where his head had been. He reached up for his sword and drew it, turning around the face his attacker. _Another assassin? Already? _he thought in amazement and shock.

Liric heard the steely hiss of a sword being drawn and the intruder pushed his door in. He was a Dunmer, a Dark Elf. He had charcoal grey skin and blood red eyes. He was dressed in black leather and long, white hair was concealed by a hood. A sword of Dwarven make was held professionally in his hand.

"Who hired you?" Liric demanded. He was getting tired of assassins. The Dunmer barked out a laugh and said in a heavily accented voice, "You fool! You are not worthy to know my masters name."

"Ah, so he is not a common client which means you are no common assassin. Tell me, who do you represent?"

"The Reclaimers," the Dunmer spat, angered by Liric's arrogant tone.

Liric frowned. "Can't say I've heard of them before."

"Of course not. Our targets do not live to speak of our order!" With that, he lunged forward swinging his blade with surprising speed and strength. Liric blocked the attack and pressed his own offence. Within a few clashes of blade on blade, he could tell that his assailant possessed greater skills than the Khajiit. So Liric resorted to magic. He threw the Dunmer off guard with a blast of lightning before following with a flurry of sword strokes. The Reclaimer was caught off balance and stumbled back into the wall. With a powerful stroke, Liric smashed the sword from the assassin's hand. He then pushed him on the chest above where his heart lay with a hand laden with frost magic. The Dunmer seemed to glow blue as he slid to the ground, his heart frozen.

Liric heard shouts and footsteps coming his way. Before they reached his room, he quickly shifted through the Dunmer's pockets. He found no money, no food, just a bottle of skooma. He was instantly dumbfounded. The assassin's eyes had been too clear to be the eyes of a skooma addict. The Khajiit had also been carrying the drug.

The innkeeper rushed into Liric's room, a dagger in his hand. He quickly took in the situation, sized it up and sheathed the weapon.

"Are ya hurt?" he growled to Liric. The latter shook his head and held out the bottle of skooma to the innkeeper.

"He had this on him," Liric said quietly.

"Do ya think 'e was an addict?" the keeper asked quickly.

"Yes," Liric lied, "You could see it in his eyes."

"Perhaps tha' is why he attacked ya, aye?"

"Aye," Liric sighed, suddenly exhausted.

The innkeeper noticed the sigh and his tone became suddenly businesslike as he said, "Come, the guard can take care o' tha', don't ya worry. You can sleep in another room."

Liric slept fitfully that night. He tossed and turned in his downy bed, haunted by two words; _The Reclaimers._ The words echoed through his mind and dreams, ravaging them until only raw fear remained. He awoke early, skin glistening with sweat. His breathing was ragged as if he had been running all night and his thoughts jumbled. _What's wrong with me?_ he thought as he ran his fingers through his damp hair. He swept the covers back and leapt from the bed. There was someone he need to see, as quickly as possible. He hastily dressed in dark blue clothing, armed himself with his sword and dagger and left the room. As he was leaving, someone grabbed his arm. He spun around, hand flying for his dagger until he saw it was only the innkeeper. The latter had an exhausted look about him and he was armed with an axe.

"I've been up all night," he whispered, "something just doesn't ring true about the addict last night. Watch yerself, okay?"

Liric nodded and thanked the man for his help.

The streets of Skingrad were narrow and shadowed the whole day except for midday when the sun streamed straight down. Numerous people bustled through them, entering and exiting shops, talking with each other and inspecting wares at stalls only the road that separated the city.

As he walked, Liric was certain that he saw pickpockets lifting purses numerous times. He had tied his purse to his belt – in open sight – for this very reason. It took only five minutes before a young Bosmer attempted to steal Liric's but he was ready for the thief. He snatched his purse back and grabbed the outstretched hand. Bending, so that his mouth was right next to the frightened Bosmer's ear, he whispered, "I need to see Radik the Redguard. Do you know where I could find him?"

The Wood Elf nodded solemnly and motioned for Liric to follow him. He then darted off into the crowd. Liric's long strides kept up with the Bosmer's scurrying and it wasn't long before the latter led him into a side alley. Pushing past some bushes against the wall, the Bosmer boy pulled open a concealed trapdoor and motioned for Liric to enter. Ducking his head, Liric descended into a dark room. It stank of tobacco and there was a small tinge of skooma. _Damned drug,_ he thought as he inspected his surroundings. There were a small number of people in the hideout, all of them shadowy silhouettes in the gloom.

The Bosmer led Liric into a room in the corner. Unlike the rest of the hideout, this room was well lit. It contained a small desk and chair with a dark-skinned man sitting behind it. He had short-cropped, black hair and his blue eyes stood out against his brown skin. Red velvet clothed his muscled body.

"Liric!" he exclaimed standing, "I havn't seen you around these parts for years!"

He pulled Liric into a rough bear hug, an act which the latter returned.

"Take a seat," he said, motioning flippantly, sinking into his own, "What brings you to these parts?"

"Wanderlust," Liric smiled. He then looked around the room and said, "I see you're moving up in your guild." The Redguard smiled depreciatingly and said, "The only that that ever changes in the thieves guild is its leaders. This is only a side branch of the guild but that doesn't make us any less important. To ourselves at least."

Liric smiled slightly but then his face hardened. "I need information."

"The informative coffers of the Skingrad Thieves Guild are open to you, my friend," the Radik said, leaning back in his chair.

"What do you know of The Relcaimers?"

Radik's face became instantly serious. He rose from his chair and quietly shut his door before returning to his seat.

"Quite a bit and none of it pleasant," he said grimly, "May I ask why?"

"Because two of their assassins have tried to kill me and I would like to know their reasoning," Liric replied.

"Well, the Reclaimers are a newly formed order. A year or two old I believe. Effectively though, they are the remaining members of the Mythic Dawn cult."

Silence reigned in the room until Liric swore and said, "Why would they want to kill me? I haven't had anything to do with that cult since before the Oblivion crisis!"

Radik shrugged and replied, "They're a group of fanatics who hold grudges for a long time. I've heard that they're trying to assassinate anyone who played a major role in their downfall. Did you ever hear of the hero of Kvatch?"

Liric nodded.

"Well they attempted to kill him but he escaped. There are rumors he escaped into Oblivion but I highly doubt that."

Liric swore again and sat back in his chair. A thought came to him.

"How long will it take for them to give up? How many assassins must I slay before they will leave me alone?"

"They will never give up," said Radik, watching Liric's face closely, "Each time they find a target, they fill the area with assassins, each one stronger than the next."

"Both assassins I've faced have carried skooma on their persons. Any particular reason for that?"

Radik made a face and replied, "In the event that they succeed – which is nearly every time – they quickly take a modified type of skooma, called Koodum, to muddy their mind so that they cannot be interrogated. After a few weeks, the drug wears off and they escape."

Liric sighed deeply and put his head in his hands.

"Hey, you okay?" Radik asked, "I've never seen you this worked up."

"I'm sorry," Liric said softly, "I had some nightmares last night."

Radik's face went expressionless. "About the Reclaimers?"

Liric jerked his head up and nodded. Radik swore explosively and looked away.

"'They cursed you. It's a form a daedric magic they practice. They cast a spell – or curse – that causes your sleep to be haunted by nightmares of the Reclaimers. That way, when the next assassin attacks, the target is worn down."

"How long do you think I have before the next one comes after me?" Liric asked, feeling as if nothing could make him feel worse. He was wrong.

"My guess, is that he's on his way now."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Argonian assassin moved smoothly through the press of people in the narrow street. His name was Dar-Met. He was dressed in plain leather and cloth. Two silver handled daggers were concealed in his cloak. He had seen the target follow a lowly pickpocket into an alley but he had chosen not to act until now. He needed to catch this man by surprise. Killing two Reclaimers was no mean feat as Dar-Met was fully aware. Though the Dunmer had been a fool and the Khajiit… well was a Khajiit, they were still highly skilled. But Dar-Met possessed greater magic and skills with a blade than both put together.

"You there!" a nearby guard suddenly shouted to Dar-Met, "Come with me!"

Dar-Met had no choice but to comply as he followed the guard off the road and into a more secular part of town.

"Is there a problem?" Dar-Met hissed.

"A young Bosmer informed me that you are carrying skooma on your person. Is this true?" the guard asked him.

"A pickpocket? You're going to trust a thief?" Dar-Met laughed, "Ah, how corrupt your society is."

"Turn out your pockets," the guard commanded coldly.

Dar-Met grinned at him and didn't move.

"I said, turn…," that was as far as the guard got before Dar-Met whipped out one of his daggers and slashed the man across the throat.

Liric stood and moved towards the door. "I'm putting you in danger then," he said, "I have to get out of town before he locates me."

"As soon as you walk into that street, an assassin is going to attack you. That is a fact."

Liric stopped cold. "But I cannot stay here!" he insisted.

"Nor should you. Nor should I. Helping you has put me on the list. I'll be coming with you," Radik said, also standing.

"Well then, how will _we _get out of Skingrad without going into the city itself?" Liric asked.

"We will go into the city. I'll walk with you. As soon as the assassin shows himself, I'll cut his throat and we can be on our way."

"That's a fools idea!" Liric exploded, "How in the Planes of Oblivion are you going to take a Reclaimer by suprise by walking beside me?"

"It won't be me doing the killing personally," said Radik, pulling a sword in a dusty scabbard out from behind a crate, "I have certain connections with a group of assassins myself. It won't take but five minutes to call a professional down here."

The alleyway in which the Bosmer had led the target was bare other than a few bushes against one wall. Dar-Met scratched his head, confused. He had been certain it was this alley. _But why would the Nord follow a complete stranger into an alleyway? Unless he wished to meet someone,_ Dar-Met thought. The thought occurred to him that the conversation could have ended and the target left while Dar-Met killed the guard.

_No, I did not take that long. So there must be a concealed entrance._

Dar-Met began kicking the bushes out of his way. His boot hit wood with a solid thunk.

Liric and Radik left the den through a side entrance. Radik led Liric and his assassin into the press of people and they were instantly caught in the flow. Radik's assassin held back slightly keepings his eyes scanned for the Reclaimer. Liric's neck prickled dangerously. He knew the feeling. Someone was searching for them with magic.

Dar-Met's daedric spell scanned the crowd, searching the multitudes in the street. He would find them he knew. There was no way to escape this spell. It required fresh blood and there was plenty on the walls around Dar-Met. The thieves who had been in the den lay dead, scattered around the room. Dar-Met's face twitched and his mind exulted; he found them.

As soon as Dar-Met was walking behind Liric, Radik's assassin moved into position. He saw the Argonian Reclaimer reach into his clothing and there was a flash of silver. The assassin's own knife felt sweaty and clammy in his hands. He knew of the Reclaimers. This would be risky. The Argonian rushed forward blade striking forward towards Liric's unprotected back. Radik's assassin could see Liric's muscles bunch as he felt the Reclaimer move. The assassin swept forward, flicking his sleeve off his hand, to reveal his own prized Elven dagger. He grabbed the top of the Reclaimer's head, the scales cool and slippery. He raised his dagger and felt the blade cut easily in the Argonian's throat. The Reclaimer dropped dead, blood pouring from the wound.

Liric broke into a run, pushing past the screaming people in the street. The assassin watched in satisfaction as his client's friend went – still alive. Suddenly, he felt a prick in his back and cold steel in his chest. Warm blood began running down his back as Radik's head peeked round and grinned. He whispered, "Job well done my friend."

Liric finally broke free of the crowd in the gate and sprinted off into the nearby forest. As he passed the first few trees, he slowed and eventually stopped against one. He peered behind him, waiting for Radik. After five minutes and no sign of Radik, Liric decided to stay in the fringe of the forest was too risky. He turned around to move deeper into it when he heard and unearthly voice shout a battlecry. Liric spun around to see a rusted sword swing at his neck. Dropping to the ground, he ripped his dagger from its sheath and swept at his assailant's boots. The attacker fell backwards with a loud thump. Scrambling to his feet, Liric studied the attacker. He was completely covered in rusty, bloodstained armour. It curved wickedly in some points and the helm seemed to be its face. It was a Dremora from Dagon's realm of Oblivon.

Freeing his sword, Liric swept the Dremora's head from his shoulders. A strange type of blood gushed into the lush grass. When he looked up, Liric's heart sank. The woods were filled with Daedra. A soft, red glow could been seen around the trees in the distance; the glow of an Oblivion Gate.

He gathered his breath and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Arm yourselves! The Daedra are here!"


End file.
